....Many
were keen to have their picture taken by their bikes. The bikes
reflected their craftsmanship, their dreams, their journey through
life, their identity. A Harley with huge bars, a tiny trail bike
with that booming stereo in its oil drum trailer, a giant streamlined
motor scooter, gleaming goat's eyes on the front of 'Black Betty.'
Half
a dozen larger tents were dotted around the valley floor. Dominating
them was a huge tavern marquee, with a band, a bar and food
facilities, and then there were the emblazoned tents of the
Sulphur City and Big Lake Motorcycle Clubs. A peddler's tent
was full of bike-brand belt buckles and t-shirts. Not far away
were the enclaves of St John's Ambulance and the Air Training
Corps boys from Feilding who were working diligently to keep
the area clear of litter.
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